Dexter Munroe would drink Listerine. When we were kids, we watched him pour Aqua Velva through a piece of bread; I think he thought the bread would filter out everything but the alcohol. His desperation was fascinating. Dexter was a brown wiry man with thick black hair that always escaped the dirty cap on his head. He shaved on the first day of every month making his face even scarier. When he spoke, it sounded as if his mouth was full of something you didn’t want to know about. His screams were the only thing we really understood.

Dexter’s son, Junior rode a red bike he got on his best Christmas. The strings on the handlebars were red, white and blue frayed pieces of plastic. I can’t recall seeing him walk, but he sure knew how to pedal. He rode a different way each day as far as he could until the streetlights came on. My Mama used to say he was going to get killed on the other side of town and it would be a week before Dexter realized it. Mama had real strong opinions about wandering children, bootleggers and God.

Dexter’s wife was a wispy woman who talked to herself so much she forgot how to talk to other folks. She disappeared in the middle of the day. No one ever knew what happened to her. I think she faded away. There were rumors, guesses and a few questions that nobody ever really cared to have answered.

On the first Saturday of each month, Dexter would climb the town’s east water tower and scream, “My Sister is not a whore!” Shirley Munroe was born a whore and she was a whore until she died. A one -legged man stabbed her over at the ‘Little Palace’ on Broad Street. Dexter thought about it when he could afford good liquor.

Jefferson Samuels was a big coffee colored man with the compassion of a preacher, but he looked better in a uniform so he became a cop. Whenever Dexter would climb the tower and begin his tirade, Officer Jeff would climb up to sit beside him. They would talk for a time before they decided to come down. It was a hold your breath kind of excitement when Dexter started weaving and sliding down the steps of the water tower guided by a deep soft southern voice that knew all the words to the sad hymns at church.A crowd gathered to watch as they came down, nobody wanted to miss it if somebody fell.

Junior sat on his bike below the water tower watching until his daddy’s wobbly feet hit solid ground. After he saw Dexter shuffle into the police car, he would ride away as far as he could go until the street lights made bright halos in a sky filled with tiny bits of stars